I sit.
I sit and lick my
Lips in anticipation for
The sweet fruit of guilt.
Saliva works its way between
My teeth, filling the space of my lips
With a word, words, tinged with forced
Glory (or so I hope).
I sit and place my tongue into the whole.hole.
Holy in its placement. Hidden away.
The saliva is sinking into my divine space.
The mole of my molar dreaming, digging
for cement thoughts to
Fill the space and trap the word, words.
I sit.
I sit and lick my teeth
In anticipation
To tell.